


Beneath Your Wing

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Sleeping Together, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: A short, simple h/c thing -- Crowley is badly injured in a late-night robbery in the park, but have no fear -- an angel is near....
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 123





	Beneath Your Wing

Crowley rarely worried about suffering a hurt or injury of any kind. He wasn’t mortal, after all. He could use a demonic miracle to heal any wound, set a broken bone, or cure any ill.

His human form was merely _mostly_ human. It definitely had all the physical characteristics of real humans, yet it did not age. He did not need to eat nor drink nor sleep to keep it going, though he _could_ if he wished, and he usually did.

There was, however, a limit to his healing powers. Were he caught unawares by a sudden injury too severe to quickly counteract, for instance, he might discorporate if the damage were too great. A car accident might do it – he loved to drive fast, though, and hated to worry about it. 

All in all, most of the time, Crowley didn’t fret about getting into a dangerous situation. He was good at handling them.

Except that he wasn’t, on one fateful night.

He and Aziraphale had a very late dinner, and had left the restaurant near midnight. The evening had gone well until the end, when things turned to unpleasant bickering. Aziraphale had been ridiculous, insisting that Crowley not drive after downing a bottle of wine.

“You go too fast even when you are sober. It’s much worse after drink.”

“Rubbish. I’m perfectly fine.”

“You can sober up first,” Aziraphale said.

“Don’t want to. I’m enjoying the feeling.”

They argued about it all the way to the car, where, in frustration, Crowley snapped. “Walk home, then.”

He was surprised when the angel called his bluff. “Fine. It isn’t far. I can cut through the park.”

They were near St. James Park, and Aziraphale’s bookshop in Soho was not far north of that.

“Go ahead then, be my guest.” Crowley yanked open the car door as Aziraphale strode off.

Crowley got in and sat there for a while, fuming. And then he got out again, concern overriding his irritation. It was midnight. The park was dark and deserted. Several strong-arm robberies had occurred there in the past month.

He sighed and headed off. By the time he reached the park, he couldn’t see Aziraphale, but he knew the route he’d most likely take – up Birdcage Walk to the path that led across the Blue Bridge. He picked up his pace.

He was only a few feet from the bridge when they struck.

Two men, moving fast. Before Crowley had fully registered their presence, one grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms. The second man ripped the billfold from his jacket with one swift movement.

Crowley was about to magic them both to Siberia when the one behind let go, spun him round, and drove a knife deep into his chest.

He screamed in pain and fell to the grass as the pair ran off. His attacker had yanked the knife out, leaving a gaping hole just below the sternum. Blood gushed forth. The pain—

He rolled onto his side, curled up, clutching the wound as a bright light flashed through his brain. He couldn’t focus, could barely even breathe – and he couldn’t summon the energy to heal himself.

He coughed as he tasted blood in the back of his throat. There was only one hope. He fought through the pain, concentrating fiercely on one thought, and then gathering the last ounce of strength he had left, he opened his mouth and sent a piercing scream into the night.

_“Angel!”_

Agonizing seconds passed as he struggled to not pass out, struggled to keep breathing, and fought the pain. He waited, still screaming inside, and then he vaguely heard footsteps…running…and then a beloved voice calling.

“Crowley!” The angel found him.

He felt Aziraphale’s touch, and felt strong arms cradling him. “Oh, my God.”

Crowley could not respond, he could only sputter as blood burbled between his lips.

He felt Aziraphale turn him onto his back, and then a sudden wrench as the angel tore Crowley’s hands away from the wound.

“It’s all right…it’s going to be all right – hang on, don’t you dare leave me!”

He clutched the angel’s hand tightly. Then he felt a warmth flow through him as Aziraphale held his hands above the wound and began to heal him.

Crowley sighed and stretched out his legs. Aziraphale moved his hands over Crowley’s chest and abdomen, murmuring, then over his throat. The sharpest pain slowly receded as he worked, while the lesser pain that lingered took longer, but at last all of the hurt and agony had fled. He was whole.

Aziraphale helped him to a sitting position there on the lawn. Though healed, the ordeal had taken a lot out of him, and Crowley felt extraordinarily weak. The angel held him, arms wrapped tight around him. “Please say you are all right.”

“I’m fine,” Crowley lied. Then he looked into the angel’s eyes, and saw the fear there. “I _will_ be fine….”

“I thought I was going to lose you. When I reached you….” Aziraphale gulped, and Crowley saw tears stream down his cheeks. “Your body was flickering. You almost—“

“Don’t say it. It didn’t happen. Angel—“ He touched Aziraphale’s face, brushing away the tears. “Take me home.”

Aziraphale helped him stand up, and though he felt groggy and weak, he was able to walk slowly, with the angel supporting him, one arm round his waist and Crowley’s arm around his shoulders. They made their way across the bridge, through the park, and on up the street to the bookshop.

By the time they got inside, more of Crowley’s strength had returned. Aziraphale guided him to the sofa, where he sank back and closed his eyes.

When he opened them a short time later, the angel sat close beside him, holding out a cup of tea.

Crowley took it gratefully and downed it quickly.

“Better?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yes.” He set the cup on the coffee table. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come – I couldn’t do it myself.” He shuddered at the thought of discorporation. It might not have mattered in the past – Hell would have provided a new body. But he stood in Hell’s bad books, and he strongly doubted they would be so accommodating now.

Aziraphale had gone very quiet. Crowley gazed at him, at his best friend, at the one constant through his sixty centuries on Earth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t let me fight with you again.”

Aziraphale nodded, then reached to take Crowley’s nearest hand between both his own, and he brought Crowley’s hand to his lips. “I shall do my best.” He kissed it, then slowly released the hold.

Crowley stared at him in wonder, and then the wonder shifted into love, and he knew at that moment that he wasn’t going anywhere that night. Or that morning – whatever it was – he didn’t care.

He reached to take Aziraphale’s face, drew him close, and kissed him. He felt the angel shiver, tighten, and then completely relax into the touch as their lips opened to each other. 

After some time he pulled away, and brushed a hand through Aziraphale’s hair. “I love you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes filled with an unmistakable joy. “Stay here, then. You have to stay—“

“Always,” Crowley replied.

Aziraphale rose and held out an arm, and he led Crowley up the stairs to his bedroom, where they undressed and fell into bed and there they embraced, and there they loved each other in their own angelic fashion.

It was nearly morning before Aziraphale whispered into his ear, “And I love you as well – and have done for ages. More than you know – a very, very long time.”

Crowley lay in his arms, content, and whole. “I do know,” he whispered in return.

“Truthfully?”

“Angel, you had me at day one, when you sheltered me beneath your wing.”

“Ah…oh. As I said, a very long time indeed.” Aziraphale held him tightly, and nestled his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “On both sides.”

Crowley closed his eyes then, and he drifted off into a much needed slumber, at peace with all the world.


End file.
